


Crash - A Kastle Drabble

by DwarvesLikeShinyThings



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:43:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvesLikeShinyThings/pseuds/DwarvesLikeShinyThings
Summary: Everything's Kastle and EVERYTHING HURTS, so here's a one-shot. Just some thoughts on the car crash scene from Daredevil S2.12...





	Crash - A Kastle Drabble

He knows it’s a terrible idea, but there’s nothing else to do.

It’s too dark to take a shot—even for him—and he won’t risk it anyway, not with her so close.

He’s never been the type to pray—if there _is_  a god up there, he’s long since forgotten about Frank Castle,  _the bastard—_ but as he revs the engine, he finds himself silently calling out to  _someone,_ begging them to make this quick, begging them to  _keep her safe._

She’s been the only good thing that’s happened to him since that terrible day in Central Park. He’d been drowning in darkness since then, and she’s the only ray of light that’s been able to pierce through.

He’s made the silent promise a hundred times to himself as he’d sat alone in his cell or in his shithole of a safehouse: that no matter what, he’d protect her, because she’s the one thing in this goddamn world  _worth protecting._

And now here he is, on a collision course for her car.

In the split second before the truck slams into the rusty old sedan, he pleads to God to let Karen Page survive.

* * *

He loses consciousness for a few moments after the crash. The whole world shifts uncomfortably as his head bangs mercilessly into the steering column. He feels a spray of glass against his face, and when he comes to again, he swipes at his cheek and feels the unmistakable wetness of blood.

Ears ringing, he throws open the door of the cab and stumbles out, his feet moving unsteadily over the pavement. He has to brace himself against the trunk of the car as he makes his way to the driver’s side; the blood roaring in his ears is so loud, it drowns out everything else. 

Until he sees her. 

Then everything goes silent.

She’s motionless, head resting against the window. He can see a streak of red running down the side of her face through the curtain of her straw blonde hair. 

_Oh no, oh no, ohgodpleaseno…_

He gropes clumsily for the door handle, yanking it open, crouching down and putting his face close to hers. His entire world stops, completely suspended until he hears the soft sound of her exhale. He almost collapses then and there with relief—she’s alive, she’s still breathing,  _he hasn’t killed her._  

He reaches out toward her cheek, fingers trembling, but he stops short of touching her. He isn’t sure that he should; much as he  _wants to—_ wants to feel for himself that she’s alive, because the sound of her breathing alone  _just_   _isn’t enough—_ he knows he doesn’t have the right. 

“ _I told you to stay away from this,”_ he whispers, his voice rough and low, and his vision blurs for a moment, eyes stinging with tears that threaten. “ _Why didn’t you listen to me?_ ”

She makes a small, plaintive noise in the back of her throat, head shifting slightly toward the sound of his voice. He recoils as though he’s been electrocuted, realizing that if she wakes up now, he won’t be able to go through with what he knows he has to do next. 

At that moment, he senses movement from the other side of the car. The Colonel is coming to, and he knows he has to move quickly. He closes the driver’s side door gently, letting his eyes return to her one more time, and it’s like breathing in one final, gasping breath before drowning in a deep, cold ocean.

If he was a better man, he would save the girl and leave the rest behind. But he’s not a better man—any hope of that had died with his family at the carousel in Central Park.

He walks back around to the other side of the car, jerking open the passenger side door with much less care just as the Colonel’s eyes begin to flutter open.

His finger twitches. 

It’s time for a reckoning.


End file.
